By the time Katherine and Pru had toured Hyde Park once, the crisp edges of snow crunching beneath Emma’s eager footsteps, Katherine had begun to suspect that the information Harriet had provided was false. Normally she wouldn’t suspect the gossip Harriet gleaned to lead them awry, but they had scoured Hyde Park for an hour. If Mrs. Dillinger took to walking her dog here every morning at half eight, they had certainly missed her. By Katherine’s estimate, it was now after nine in the morning.
“Perhaps we should call on her like we did her father yesterday.”
“That would be a very poor idea. We have no connection to Mrs. Dillinger. I’ve never even seen her.” The only means she had for recognizing such a woman was by the description of her person and the hope that should their dogs cross paths, they would be able to exchange introductions. Thus far, in the crisp winter air, they hadn’t crossed paths with a soul. It was as though Hyde Park lay in a pocket of deathly silence. If not for Pru, Katherine might have found it too eerie to traverse alone.
“We must do something,” Pru said between gritted teeth. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms despite the thickness of her cloak. “Something other than walk in circles. I feel as though my nose is going to fall off.”
Katherine shoved her hands deeper inside the ermine muff, the leash dangling out the end. She’d borrowed the muff from her stepmother. The ermine matched Susanna’s cloak, a cloak likely similar to that which Peggy reported having seen. Though given what they’d heard from the cook and Peggy’s nervous condition, Katherine was suspicious she actually did see a woman in an ermine-trimmed cape. However, it would be very convenient if Mrs. Dillinger showed up wearing one.
“Perhaps we’ll get more information and try again tomorrow. If Harriet can discover her usual route or the gate by which she enters or leaves, we can arrange to cross paths with her.”
“We should have done so today,” Pru grumbled.
Privately, Katherine agreed. However, she had only thought to do such a thing after they had entered Hyde Park. She’d forgotten how large it was.
A tremendous bark shook the air, making Emma’s hackles rise. She shrank back, searching for the source as Katherine turned to do the same. A grey Irish wolfhound burst from the crux of the paths, a leash strained tight as it pulled a harried woman behind. With every ground-eating step, she dug in her heels. The hood of her cloak fell across her face, obscuring her expression as she was inexorably pulled nearer. The dog gave another shattering bark.
“Bonbon, no! Stop! They don’t care to make your acquaintance.”
Although the woman’s shout was breathless, having little effect on her pet, Katherine recognized it instantly. Elizabeth Verne seemed flustered and not at all herself. Katherine bit back a smile, knowing full well what a handful Emma could be when she had a mind to misbehave. She could only imagine the effect when amplified by one hundred pounds.
Lest her pug get the idea to run or trip them in the leash, Katherine leaned down to snatch her off the ground. Emma’s small legs kicked through the air as she twisted to look the wolfhound in the eye. She growled, her hackles stiff. Apparently, she hadn’t yet noticed the hound’s vigorously wagging tail.
As the wolfhound slowed to meet them, Elizabeth regained control over her pet and drew herself up. “Sit,” she said with the approximation of a harried schoolteacher.
The hound whined, ears back, as it looked over its shoulder at her.
She transferred the leash to one hand and used the other to point at the ground.
Mere feet away from them, the wolfhound turned to give them a forlorn look before it sat.
“Stay,” Elizabeth added, a note of warning in her voice. When the hound didn’t look in danger of running amok, she straightened her cloak and cast them an apologetic look. “I’m terribly sorry. She’s friendly, I promise. A bit too friendly, if I’m honest.” As she finally seemed to look up to see who stood in front of her, her eyes widened. “Oh, Katherine!”
Katherine held up her hand, hoping to stall whatever apology would fly from the other woman’s lips next. Emma squirmed in her other hand, wanting to be let down. “Is she friendly toward other dogs?”
“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth answered, nodding vigorously. However, she also tightened her hold on the leash, as if she feared the wolfhound would fly beyond her control once more. “She adores making friends.”
Deciding to take her at her word, especially after the wolfhound began thumping her tail so vigorously against the ground that Katherine felt the vibrations even through the packed snow, Katherine set Emma on the ground. “Go say hello, girl.”
Emma seemed tentative, but once the wolfhound had stopped making the air ring with her barks and no longer strained to get nearer, she had stopped growling. After a moment of strained silence, Emma grew curious and took a step closer. The wolfhound’s tail waved so vigorously that a plume of flakes billowed from the ground. Elizabeth wrapped the lead around her wrist.
“Gentle,” she cautioned her gargantuan dog.
This time, Bonbon behaved as Emma inched nearer. She leaned her head down to sniff noses with Emma. When the pug seemed satisfied enough to give a little wag, the wolfhound decided to investigate the pug’s short tail more vigorously.
Katherine relaxed marginally, thankful that the pair didn’t seem to be at odds. Emma was usually well behaved among other dogs, but with her reaction to the wolfhound’s introduction, she had been cautious.
She turned her attention to Elizabeth. “What a surprise to find you here. A pleasant one, I might add.”
Elizabeth grimaced, but she hid the impolite expression behind a gesture to adjust her hood once more. “Bonbon gets… overly excited when she smells another dog. I thought it best to walk her early, before anyone else thought to rise.”
At the very time Mrs. Dillinger usually walked her dog. Katherine pursed her lips. “Are we the first people you’ve encountered?”
“With dogs? Yes.” Now that the pair had finished their introductions, Elizabeth shortened the leash and stepped closer. “I did happen across a robust old man, who informed me he does ten tours of the park every day, rain or shine.”
Ten? That seemed excessive given its size, but Katherine decided not to comment. She turned, beckoning Elizabeth forward. “Pru and I were about to take our leave of Hyde Park. Would you like to walk with us toward the gate?”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said brightly. She fell into step on Pru’s far side and said to her, “I don’t believe we’ve had much opportunity to talk. How was your dress fitting the other day?”
A bit too far away to add to the conversation without effort, Katherine contented herself with listening. It didn’t escape her notice that Elizabeth had chosen to separate the two dogs.
She attended to the conversation with only half an ear as she assessed Elizabeth’s capabilities. Gracious, beyond a doubt, and skilled in diplomacy for immediately striking up a conversation with Pru to cover the fact that she was separating Emma from Bonbon, minimizing the risk of something amiss occurring. Both were excellent qualities in a potential marchioness, not to mention that Lord Bath had always seemed particularly fond of Emma. His adoration of dogs boded well for matching Elizabeth with him.
If Katherine still intended to match him. She didn’t believe him capable of murder, but…
As they passed through the Queen’s Gate onto Kensington Road, a shadow detached from a building across the road. Several carriages and carts trundled past, necessitating that the lanky figure, bundled in a greatcoat, pause for the conveyances to pass. Eventually, he reached their side of the street and unwound the scarf around his cheeks far enough for Katherine to identify him.
Mostly. One side of his face sported a mottled blue bruise. It looked fresh.
Katherine nearly dropped Emma’s leash in her alarm. She fumbled for it. “Lyle, what happened?”
He shrugged, the movement making him wince. “Some excitement on shift, that’s all. I came by Dorchester House as soon as I could extract myself from the matter. Harriet suggested I might find you here.”
Katherine nodded. Then, noticing Elizabeth’s curious glances, she recalled that the woman would have no notion of who Lyle was. “This is Lyle Murphy, one of Sir John’s Men who operate out of Bow Street. Lyle, this is Miss Elizabeth Verne, a friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” Elizabeth said politely.
Lyle returned the greeting with an inclination of his head. Judging by the flush creeping up his neck, he had succumbed to his usual tendency to become tongue-tied in the presence of a beautiful woman.
Luckily, Elizabeth didn’t linger. “Thank you for the company, but I fear I must take Bonbon home before she decides to chase some other poor, hapless creature. Good day.”
Murmurs of goodbyes echoed hers as she turned to leave. Only once she was out of earshot did Lyle turn to Katherine. “Harriet said you were searching for a Mrs. Dillinger?”
“Yes. She is Lord Rochford’s daughter.” Had Lyle seen her? “I hear she bears a strong resemblance to her father. Tall, though not quite as tall as me or Pru, brown hair, a curvaceous figure. Harriet told me she walks her dog every morning at half eight. Have you seen her?”
Lyle’s mouth puckered, pulling the bruise on his cheek tight. He winced. “Yes, I believe I have. A woman matching that description ventured to Bow Street to fetch her husband, Mr. Dillinger.” He frowned. “Perhaps I digress. The excitement of last evening was in finally uncovering the location of an illegal pugilists’ ring, in no small part thanks to the contributions of your father these past weeks. Last night, we descended en masse to arrest the lot. I spent half the night interrogating those arrested in an attempt to discern which were the leaders and which the spectators.” Raising one eyebrow in an expression of chagrin, he gestured to his face and added dryly, “The fighters were self-evident, as you can see.”
“You must be exhausted,” Katherine exclaimed. “Whyever did you come to see me? I value your help, but I’d rather you were abed.”
“The entire endeavor still has me flushed with energy. I’d hoped to tire myself by applying myself to the suspicious death.”
“The murder,” Pru corrected, propping her hands on her hips. “And didn’t you say we could find Mrs. Dillinger at Bow Street? We must depart at once before she slips away.”
“Not much chance of that,” Lyle answered, weary. He rubbed his forehead. “Last I left her, she was making a fuss at Bow Street in an effort to have her husband released. He was one of those arrested at the pugilist match, but we haven’t yet been able to determine if he was a leader or a spectator. Given how soused he was when we brought him in, I imagine that it was the latter, but we must be thorough. It will be at least an hour before he is released.”
When Pru continued to glare, he raised his hands in surrender. His gloves left an inch of skin showing between the hem and the cuff of his greatcoat. He must be as cold as ice. How long had he been waiting near the gate?
“Let us return to Bow Street, if you’re so adamant.” He looked as though the very notion threatened to drain the energy from him.
Katherine reached out to touch his arm, offering her support. “Don’t worry, we’ll take the carriage rather than walk. And I’ll inform you of the latest developments in the case along the way. Thank you.”
He returned her smile with a nod of gratitude. “You know I’m happy to help you in any way I can.”
The courts at Bow Street were housed in a grand three-story brick edifice with doors facing the corner of the street. The carved façade loomed over Katherine, Pru, and Lyle as they entered by the heavy, plain wooden door. Inside, the lobby housed myriad concerned citizens begging for the release of their loved ones.
Mrs. Dillinger, haranguing a harried-looking clerk, was easy to spot. She shared characteristics not only with her father’s proud bearing and build but also with the delicacy of her mother’s features that Katherine has espied from the portrait hanging in Lord Rochford’s foyer. Her mouth twisted in distaste, Mrs. Dillinger turned away and stormed toward a seat in the corner of the room. Although two other women stood nearby, they took small steps away from Mrs. Dillinger and whispered quietly.
Lyle pointed a finger at the woman in question. “There she is.”
The best way to uncover motive was to question Mrs. Dillinger, but how to go about it? As a friend, perhaps?
Pru pursed her lips. “I can’t fault her for wanting to see her husband freed.”
“Maybe I can endear us to her by discovering the state of the investigation regarding her husband. He wasn’t particularly coherent when I questioned him earlier. Perhaps he’s sobered up,” Lyle offered.
Katherine nodded. “Good idea. Let’s introduce ourselves.”
As they crossed the room, the other occupants gave them curious looks. However, they must have been found lacking any form of titillation, for Katherine soon found herself ignored. She wasn’t unhappy to see the loiterers returning to their conversations. The only person to whose attention she wished to recommend herself was Mrs. Dillinger.
Fortunately, the woman’s behavior had cleared several seats nearby for Katherine and Pru to occupy. They chose the ones on either side of their suspect.
She, on the other hand, only had eyes for Lyle. She narrowed them, her lip curling. “You.”
“I’m not here to antagonize,” he said quietly.
“Then leave.”
Katherine sat taller. “Madam, perhaps you ought to listen to him. He is an officer of the court.”
“He’s a filthy Bow Street Runner who looks to rip a man from his wife for profit!”
Although Katherine—and, undoubtedly, Lyle—had met with some prejudice when informing others that her dearest friend worked on Bow Street, she had never come across someone so vile. Lyle, on the other hand, didn’t bat an eyelash. His demeanor stiffened, his shoulders thrust back in the customary way he approached suspects. His expression looked as stiff as a mask, but the eyes were far less cold than he likely intended. If Katherine were to hazard a guess, she would say he was hurt by the woman’s unfounded accusation.
“He can help you,” Pru snapped. “But he won’t lift a finger on your behalf if you continue to insult him.”
Mrs. Dillinger gnashed her teeth. Her eyes filled with a film of water a moment before she blinked it away. With the way she clenched her hands, Katherine half expected her to darken the bruise on Lyle’s cheek.
Instead, she loosened her hold and said, “If I was wrong, then I beg forgiveness. I overstepped.” She looked between Katherine and Pru, avoiding Lyle’s gaze. “All I want is to be reunited with my husband so I can go home. I’ve been here far too long.”
Lyle nodded, his movement stiff. “I’ll speak with my colleagues and inquire as to the status of your husband.”
“Thank you.” Despite his help, Mrs. Dillinger still refused to look at him. “His name is Roger Dillinger.”
That, Lyle already knew. He turned on his heel and entered a door leading deeper into the building, offering a nod to the clerk along the way. Katherine envied him the ability to leave.
Perhaps she is grieving. After all, everyone grieved in their own way. Lord Rochford had fallen deep into his cups. Mrs. Dillinger might choose to hide behind her hatred. But if so, she could prove a valuable asset. A woman who suspected others of wrongdoing might be able to point them toward other suspects. For Susanna’s sake, Katherine didn’t want to overlook any possible angle in this investigation.
At all costs, she must prove that she could solve this murder.
“Dillinger... You wouldn’t, by chance, be related to Lord Rochford, would you?”
Mrs. Dillinger stiffened. She cast Katherine a wary glance from the corner of her eye. “And if I am?”
“If you were, I would offer my condolences over the loss of your stepmother. Such a terrible tragedy.”
Mrs. Dillinger looked down at her hands, now folded neatly on her lap. “Thank you.”
“I hope your father is well. I’d heard he was rather broken up about it.”
Mrs. Dillinger glanced sharply at Katherine. “Of course he was.”
“Were you at Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball with them?”
Mrs. Dillinger straightened in her chair. “I was at home that night.”
“With your husband?” Pru asked helpfully.
Mrs. Dillinger shook her head, her shoulders slumped inward in defeat. “My husband was out at one of the pugilist matches. Last night wasn’t the first he attended. He has a… taste for them.”
Color stained her cheeks, almost as if she was embarrassed to admit the fact.
“Too bad. It might have been nice if you were there to comfort your father.” Katherine lowered her voice and added almost as if to herself, “I wonder what she was doing up on that balcony.”
Mrs. Dillinger tsked. “I would have no idea.”
“I imagine she stepped out for fresh air. Maybe after an argument—seems she must not have been paying attention to fall over the railing—and, of course, your father did not accompany her.”
A furrow formed in Mrs. Dillinger’s brow. “Why are you asking all these questions about my stepmother? Do you not share everyone’s belief that her death was an accident?”
“Of course we do,” Katherine assured Mrs. Dillinger. “If the authorities have ruled it an accident, far be it from me to disagree.”
As far as Katherine knew, the authorities hadn’t ruled it as anything yet, but apparently Mrs. Dillinger didn’t realize the investigation was ongoing.
Unfortunately, her questions seemed to have aroused Mrs. Dillinger’s suspicions. Looking concerned, she asked, “You don’t think it was a murder, do you?”
“No... I... ”
Mrs. Dillinger carried on in a quiet, willful voice. “If you’re looking at my father, you’d best look somewhere else. He adored Celia down to his marrow. It was sickening the way she used him, but he never saw a single flaw. Besides, Papa isn’t the sort to resort to violence to solve his problems... even if she didn’t appreciate his kindness enough not to stray.”
Katherine glanced at Pru. Apparently Mrs. Dillinger had no qualms about bad-mouthing her stepmother to strangers. She might as well dig further. “Do you mean to imply that your stepmother was unfaithful?”
Mrs. Dillinger drew herself up again. “I suspected she was. I’m not sure if father knew.”
At that moment, the door leading farther into the building opened. Lyle walked out, accompanying Mr. Dillinger. The man must have been officially deemed a spectator and not a leader of the match. The moment Mrs. Dillinger espied her husband, she dashed up to greet him, snatching a scarlet cloak from the seat behind her.
Lyle met Katherine and Pru halfway across the room, not far from where Mrs. Dillinger greeted her husband with worried queries as to his health and treatment. When Lyle rubbed a hand across the reddish stubble lining his jaw, he looked weary to the bone.
“Did you discover anything?”
“She doesn’t believe her father killed his wife,” Pru answered, her voice dismissive.
Katherine raised a finger, beckoning them toward the exit before she resumed the conversation. “Or maybe she does and was trying to persuade us otherwise. It seemed like once she thought we were trying to imply it wasn’t an accident, she got a bit defensive of her father.”
“She was the one to tell us of Lady Rochford’s unfaithful behavior,” Pru reminded her. “That, if anything, only points toward Lord Rochford as the suspect, especially if his wife was with child.”
“That was after I brought up the question of why she was on the balcony. We already know she was expecting,” Katherine answered. “What we don’t know is whether or not the child was his. I’d rather not suspect one of my stepmother’s friends of infidelity, but if what Mrs. Dillinger told us is indeed true, then we might have stumbled upon a motive after all. We had had some inklings of infidelity before this.”
Pru nodded. “Oh, yes. With her driver, wasn’t it? He had appeared to be hiding something…”
“We won’t know for certain until we discover what that something was.”
As they exited the courts, Pru suggested, “We shouldn’t discount Mrs. Dillinger, either. If she suspected her stepmother was unfaithful, she may also have suspected she was with child. Not to mention she was accompanying her to the seamstress to have her dresses let out. Mrs. Dillinger may not have wanted a stepbrother to inherit.”
“Why not? She couldn’t inherit it, and besides, she has a scarlet-red cloak. I think someone would have seen.”
Pru raised her eyebrows as Katherine hailed the Dorchester carriage waiting down the street. “She may have thought she could inherit, or maybe something is in the works. And a woman can own more than one cloak, Katherine.”